Arts&Exhibition

[Busan Beat X Liquid Arts Network] Liquid Arts Empty Venue

Liquid Arts Empty Venue

Concept Creation: Mike Payne-Wheeler & Tim Paugh by PJ Han

Liquid Arts, a recurring mixed media event in Busan, closed its doors last February to ensure its community’s safety. Yet as the space between us grows, art continues to bridge that distance. The following are from its online “Empty Venue” event.

ⓒ Photo Credit . Mark Zink

ⓒ“Quarantine” by Connor Paetzold

Virus- I am not alive unless I am inside you. Are you receptive to my crown? I forged it from borrowed skin, ripped from my exes, to make me more attractive to you. Help me fall apart, then give me the tools I need to replicate myself. I will reprogram you to reform me again and again until you mutate me. Make me novel. "Release me, and I will forge my crown again."

-Amy Rose

ⓒ“Untitled” by Rebecca Yi @PristineBunnyLoaf

There must have been a moment before the end where the room itself breathed. Where the music paused just long enough to draw in air. All the dancers held their breath in reverence so the music and room could pull in enough air to last past their passing. And then it passed. The end still hours away; it might as well be infinity.

- PJ Metz

Three wounded animals were living in the old house with a short pomegranate tree. They quietly sat by the floor to ceiling window and looked outside all day on the wooden floor that haed always been so shiny and clean, now worn out and dusty. The old grandma with dementia was worried about her youngest, dying daughter. The dying alcoholic was worried about her autistic son. And the smallest wounded animal laid his head on his mother’s lap and listened to the sound of the orange sun going down, not knowing it was the last day of them being three.

- Jee K. Hazelton

The wind is fluid, washing you toward your destination wherever that may be. Bless you. It starts an itch. A view through windows. Bustle against your indifferent door. Curiosity stirs in your head, scratches against soft tissue, tears at you from inside. You want stay where heat flows from floors, but desire draws you out into the day. Curiosity gnaws soft tissue, reaches fever pitch. You make a decision. You ride out in an explosion. Goodness resides in the wind & you are at home. And home is unmasked. You go in- infect & multiply. They never saw it coming.

PJ Han is a teacher, writer, motorcyclist, and an animal lover from Chicago, IL. He has been a frequent contributor to the Busan open mic scene, and an actor & set design assistant with the Busan English Theater Association (BETA). He currently plans on co-hosting a peer-centric writing workshop in April 2020 as well as releasing a chapbook this upcoming year.